


like millions of tiny universes

by shatteredwriters



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Complete, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, and everyone else knows it and wants them to admit it, because really when are they not, five times fic, i hope i do this show justice because it is so amazing, jim and spock are in trouble again, kirk and spock are so soft i just love them, spirk, they both love each other but wont admit it, why am i so obsessed with writing mutual pining lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredwriters/pseuds/shatteredwriters
Summary: “That’s what it feels like when you touch me. Like millions of tiny universes being born and then dying in the space between your finger and my skin.” -Iain ThomasFive times Jim grabbed Spock. And one time Spock grabbed him.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 66
Kudos: 234





	1. Save Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I'm back with another Star Trek fic. I love the "five times" fics, so naturally I had to do one for Spirk! Kinda meh about this chapter but posting it nevertheless. Enjoy!

“Jim, I don’t like this…”

Dr. McCoy glanced around the group, fear dripping from every word. The ground beneath their feet was warbling and trembling, an ominous rumble filling the air around them. They’d arrived to a barren wasteland, red dirt and rocky surface revealing no sign of life. Whatever the landing party had been expecting when they’d beamed to the surface of this planet, touching down in the middle of an earthquake wasn’t it.

Amidst the heaving and rolling of the earth, Jim was doing his best to assess the situation. _This is not good, this is not good… _

Jim kept his voice as calm as he could when he turned towards Spock. “So Mr. Spock, any clue what’s going on here? How did we not know about this?”

“Captain, I…do not know.”

The rest of the group, Bones, Mr. Sulu, and Scotty, all turned abruptly at Spock’s words.

“Not know?! How diya not know? This didna appear outta nowhere, laddie!” The agitated Scotsman groused as he peered apprehensively at the ground beneath his feet, arms outstretched to maintain his balance. With a nervous chuckle, Sulu raked a hand through his hair while the doctor stared unblinkingly at the Vulcan.

Jim waited patiently, knowing that Spock’s not knowing wouldn’t last very long.

“Our scanners did not pick up any atmospheric or surface disturbance upon entry to this system,” the taller man mused, peering around analytically. “However, now that we have beamed down, it is obvious the planet is not...stable.” Bones scoffed at Spock’s detached analysis. “Thank you, Captain Obvious!”

“Doctor, you know very well I am a Lieutenant Commander. The _Captain_ is Captain Kirk-”

“ _Thank you,_ Mr. Spock.” Jim interrupted quickly. “I suggest we re-focus our efforts on making contact with the Enterprise so we can get off this planet? How’s that sound to everybody?”

He was pleased to note that Sulu already had his communicator out at the authoritative command. Bones and Scotty were still grumbling to themselves ( _shocking_ ), both anxiously glancing between their dangerous surroundings and each other. Spock was- _wait_ , _where was he?_

Jim ignored Sulu’s report of interference on the line as he turned left and then right, searching for the last member of their party. After a moment, he spied him standing just a short distance away, facing the group. He could see the focused frown and raised eyebrow on the Vulcan’s face (which Jim found _inordinately_ cute). He was obviously perturbed with their surroundings as the tricorder in his hand absorbed all his focus. Jim really liked how whenever he didn’t know, Spock just had to track the answer down, oblivious to all else around him. It was extremely endearing.

Before Jim could call out to Spock about staying near the group, because this planet was definitely not safe and they really needed to stick together and Jim found himself very preoccupied with the wellbeing of his crew (one member maybe slightly more than the others), the ground beneath them shifted dangerously. The entire group fell silent, peering at their feet.

With a thunderous roar, the surface cracked.

All four officers who were clustered together lost their footing, falling unceremoniously to the red dirt. Jim heard sounds of confused surprise from his companions as he landed hard on his hands and knees. The reverberations beneath his palms seemed to become increasingly more violent with each passing moment, shaking Jim with the shock waves as much as with fear. Sulu needed to get communication up with the Enterprise because one fact was exceptionally evident: _We’ve got to get out of here._

This wasn’t some enemy they could see and fight, could outmaneuver with tactics and skill. This was a force of nature that would throw them about like paper dolls; relentless, unyielding, merciless. Jim swallowed thickly as the surface, like sheets of ice breaking apart from a glacier, began to separate in large chunks, deep cavernous fissures slicing across the ground.

Blinking quickly and coughing through the dust that now saturated the air, Jim called out to the rest of the landing party.

“Mr. Sulu? Bones? Scotty?”

“Aye.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Christ, on a cracker, Jim.”

“Mr. Spock?”

No response.

“Spock?!”

Jim’s head shot up, eyes frantically searching the vacant space where his first officer should have been. _He’s not there. Why isn’t he there?!_ Panic griped the commanding officer at the realization, forcing his hands into fists in an attempt to maintain a semblance of control over his emotions. _Breathe. Come on, just breathe._ Jim scrambled to his feet, barking orders to the other three to keep trying to contact the Enterprise, as he staggered as quickly as he could to the last place he’d seen his best friend.

The shifting ground and unsteadiness of his feet made the distance seem much greater. Heart in his throat, Jim called out for his second in command.

“Spock? Spock, where are you?!”

He strained to discern any reply. Eyes scanning the cloudiness around him, all Jim heard was the ominous rumbling and harsh cracking of the ground. No reassuring Vulcan logic or practical comment to assuage his rapidly snowballing fears.

A sudden heavy shift sent Jim tumbling to the ground, knees and elbows colliding painfully with the dusty rock. His communicator skidded from his grip and disappeared into a wide crack in the ground right in front of him. Crawling forward, the captain reached the edge of the fissure and peered down.

Blackness descended as far as he could see. _Well, don’t think I’m getting that communicator back._

Swearing silently, Jim was about to turn away when movement caught the corner of his eye. He rubbed the dirt and dust from his vision, peering inquisitively into the gloom.

_What was that? There, down to the left…_

A flash of blue stole his breath.

“Spock! Can you hear me? Are you alright?!”

The Vulcan was hanging by his fingertips a few feet below where the ground gave way. It was a miracle he’d managed to find someplace to hang onto; the slight ledge jutted only a few inches from the dirt wall. He raised his head nonchalantly, dark eyes shining in the shadow.

“I am alright, Captain. But I would appreciate some assistance finding a way out of this predicament.”

Jim pushed himself quickly over to where Spock was hanging on the wall, fear immobilizing any witty retort or joke. He reached down his right arm towards the Vulcan.

“Grab my hand, Spock.”

His friend looked up into his eyes, expression unreadable. For holding onto a ledge for dear life, Spock still seemed his usual composed self. Incredibly disinterested. He cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips.

“Captain, if I take your hand, there is a seventy-two point six four percent chance that my body weight will pull you over the edge, and we will both fall to the bottom of this planetary fissure.”

_This damn fucking Vulcan._

Jim felt his frustration rising as he strained further towards Spock.

“That wasn’t a _suggestion_ , Mr. Spock. Grab my hand!”

“I do not think it is wise, Captain.”

“Screw wise! Grab my hand, damnit!”

Much to his chagrin, he saw Spock shaking his head. _I swear to God…no, on every deity that exists across the universe!_ _Of all the pigheaded, stubborn decisions…_

The commanding officer closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He was going to get Spock out of this, no matter what. Mind cycling through different solutions to their current predicament, Jim’s frantic gaze landed on a small crack behind him and to the left. It wasn’t too deep or too wide. He might just be able to use it as a hand grip…

He extended his arm and felt his fingertips brush the edge. Straining, he latched onto the ground. The rock cut uncomfortably into his palm, but…this could work. Screw that probability Spock had spouted. He was getting his best friend ( _definitely just his best friend..._) out of this. He had to.

Shifting his focus back to Spock, he could see the Vulcan’s eyes closed in concentration. _He didn’t have much longer. He’s strong, but even he must be reaching his breaking point._

“Alright, _now_ grab my hand.”

Spock glanced up sharply at his words. All around them the ground was shifting ever more frequently, bits of dirt shaking off the sides of the gap and loud cracks reverberating in the emptiness. Despite the chaos, the captain could practically hear the gears whirring in Spock’s brain. For all the extraordinary things Spock could do, his dizzying intellect and ability to reason through any problem, sometimes…sometimes the Vulcan was just _too damn logical_.

“ _Trust me_ ,” Jim whispered, right hand reaching towards Spock, his left securely gripping the edge of the fissure. There was only about a foot of space that separated the two.

_Trust me. Please, trust me. I can’t lose you._

Spock hesitated for only a moment before surging upwards. Time seemed to stand still as slender fingers reached towards Jim’s outstretched hand.

Spock missed Jim by centimeters.

A guttural _“No!”_ escaped Jim’s lips as he released his left hand and slid further over the edge. Reaching, straining with unconcealed desperation. It was pure instinct. His right hand grabbed Spock’s wrist in the nick of time, halting the Vulcan’s inevitable fall. Before he could let out a sigh of relief, his current predicament made itself dreadfully known. His excitement at having saved Spock was short-lived, as he felt himself sliding over the dirt towards the crevice. Left hand flailing out for purchase, feet kicking, Jim realized he was going to go over the edge in a few seconds. There was no stopping it.

That seventy percent chance Spock had calculated unfortunately seemed to be accurate. As always.

Their eyes connected for a moment, resignation wavering in Jim’s brown ones and understanding sparking in Spock’s. This was it. There were worse ways to go, really. Jim was still frantically grasping, not going down without a fight. Searching for a solution. Never giving up, even as his fingers grabbed nothing but hardened rock and crimson dirt.

“Jim.”

The captain caught Spock’s gaze and held it. The Vulcan using his first name was…odd, but Jim rather liked it. He also really liked the brown of Spock’s eyes, even if he never got the chance to tell him that.

Before Jim could say anything, probably the last thing he was ever going to say as his torso was almost fully over the edge of the crack, he felt weights on his boots and then a hand clutching his left arm. He turned, mouth opened slightly in surprise, to see Bones, Scotty, and Sulu. Relief overwhelmed him, contrasting sharply with the terrible resignation that had turned his blood to ice in his veins only moments ago. The three's combined efforts stopped Jim, and Spock’s, impending fall. Scotty and Bones heaved Jim’s legs backwards, pulling him away from the edge, while Sulu anchored Jim’s arm. 

_Guess we’ll live to fight another day._

The Iowa native let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

It was a full minute of exertion before all five of them collapsed to the rocky ground. Besides the punctuation of rumbles and cracks, all that could be heard was the group’s collective labored breathing. They stayed like that, ground shifting disconcertingly beneath them.

All Jim could think was: _We’re alive. We’re all alive. _He couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face at the realization. Sitting up, eyes skimming across his companions, Jim addressed the team in an amused tone.

“Impeccable timing as always, gentlemen.”

With breathy laughs echoing in his ears, Jim got to his feet unsteadily. He reached out a hand to help up Spock, while McCoy assisted Scotty and Sulu. Spock ignored Jim’s offered hand and, slapping dust from his blue shirt and dark pants, got to his feet on his own.

 _The stubbornness of Vulcans,_ the captain mused with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m getting real tired of saving your ass, Jim,” Bones grumbled good-naturedly. “And dammit man! How do you _always_ manage to rip your shirt?”

Jim managed to look somewhat discomfited as he glanced down. He heard Scotty and Sulu snickering as he took stock of the vertical slits in his gold shirt, the result of sliding across the rocky ground.

“I do it just for you, Bones.”

A punch on the arm was the doctor’s response to Jim’s quip. Rubbing it in faux hurt, Jim laughed and looked over at Spock. Before he could say anything, the ground gave another ferocious quake, refocusing the group back in on the danger of their situation.

“I say we get outta here, laddies.”

Sulu gave a sound of agreement as they two renewed their efforts to contact the Enterprise. As for Bones, he began to tut around Jim with his tricorder. Between grumbles about the abrasions on his chest and the cut he hadn’t noticed on his hand from griping the ledge, Jim found Spock’s gaze again.

Spock looked like there were quite a few different things he wanted to say in that moment, but couldn’t decide on the right one. Opening his mouth, and then shutting it again quickly, Spock settled on just looking at Jim. Though looking was such a trivial way of putting it. When those brown eyes met his, Jim could see nothing else. All around them, the dust in the air, the heaving of the earth, the beeps of the communicators, faded into the background. Those depths coaxed him into a profound sea, seeming to envelop him with the warmth of appreciation in such a way as to defy description. It was a soul-deep expression, one that must have been incredibly difficult for the Vulcan to reveal. Though the rest of his face remained passive, the browns of Spock’s eyes were swirling, alight, intoxicating.

The revealed feeling stole Jim’s breath and left him weak in the knees. It filled up every inch of him. Consuming him, embracing him. He was surprised by the intensity of the emotion, especially since that _connection_ , for lack of a better word, came from a man who claimed all emotions were illogical. Spock truly knew how to get his point across even when words failed.

Throwing the Vulcan an interested smile and a nod of understanding, Jim turned to face the rest of the group as a rumble sounded beneath their feet.

“Let’s go home, shall we, Mr. Scott?”


	2. Happy Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A holiday party, some incredibly strong eggnog, and deepening emotions. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came together much quicker than I expected! So I got this random image in my head where everyone was in these tacky, adorable, too-big-for-them Christmas/holiday sweaters, drinking eggnog, grinning and goofing off. It just made me happy and so I took the idea and ran with it! But it's not all fluff--I had to make it like a little angsty dontcha know. Without further ado, here is the second time Jim grabbed Spock. Hope you all enjoy!

Very rarely did Jim allow himself to indulge and lose control. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d had more than a single drink since taking command of the Enterprise. But tonight, tonight he decided to live on the edge, to cast out all worries and cares and responsibilities.

It was a party after all...

They’d all been fairly subdued the past few weeks; drifting alone in space with nothing but emptiness and stars around had gotten to even the most seasoned of explorers. Relationships had heated up and cooled down, squabbles erupted over the smallest of things, and friendships began and ended quicker than anyone could keep track. It was the boredom that had been the worst. They’d been cooped up and running on autopilot for too long.

They were in desperate need of a distraction.

Jim could have kissed Uhura when she came to him with the makings of a plan for a holiday party. It was near the middle of December back on Earth and she thought it was just the thing to brighten everyone’s spirits. Jim’s mind had painted a picture of the most perfect holiday celebration: decorations in hues of green, red, silver, and gold; food and drinks to spare; gaudy old music that was all at once saccharine and impossibly catchy. Uhura explained how she, Chekov, and Sulu had already organized it all, even if she was being rather vague about the specifics. When Jim had called her on it, she had simply shaken her head, evaded his question, and claimed it was going to be a surprise.

That had elicited the first real smile out of him in quite some time. And so, with a good-natured chuckle, he had given Uhura the green light. The crew undoubtedly deserved something like this. It may not have been shore leave or visiting family, but it was the closest thing to home they could find amidst the galaxies, constellations, and planets.

The three planners had been busy for an entire week setting up the holiday party, or “shindig” as Bones came to call it. They kept the specifics very hush-hush from the entire crew, which only caused anticipation to collectively skyrocket. By the time the day of the event arrived, everyone was positively buzzing with excitement, counting down the minutes and seconds until the fun began. Even Spock didn’t seem immune to the cheerfulness that flooded the ship from the engine room to the bridge.

* * *

Alpha shift over and their replacements debriefed, Jim and Spock made their way towards the already riotous festivities. They could hear the laughing, singing, and all-around merriment from a few corridors away.

The officers did their due diligence and made their rounds, shaking hands and making small talk. Jim was pleased to note that everyone seemed to be having a good time. No lingering stress, tension, frustration, or boredom to be found. Content, and ready to have some fun themselves, the pair met up near the back of the room with Bones, Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty. They unsurprisingly congregated near the drinks table.

Beverages were handed out, and it was in this moment Jim decided to just say _fuck it_. He was going to have a good time, definitely have more than one drink, and make some memories. What could possibly go wrong?

While Spock sniffed at the concoction in his hand, Bones and Jim decided to go drink for drink with Scotty. Very quickly, they realized their grave error. Three brandies in and the officers were feeling no pain. None. Much to their dismay, however, Scotty didn't even seem phased. A fleeting thought passed all jumbled and discombobulated through Jim’s mind about maybe stopping while he still had a semblance of control over himself. But then they’d brought out the eggnog (where in the galaxies they had gotten eggnog he will never know). All caution had been thrown without a second thought to the wind.

Jim’s mind felt kind of fuzzy and a warm feeling had settled in his chest. Here he was, surrounded by great people, with a delicious drink in his hand, good food in his belly, and the most gorgeous man standing right next to him.

_Oh shit. Did I say that out loud?_

Glancing around, he was relieved to see Scotty and Bones engrossed in a heated debate about the best Christmas carol. Uhura and Chekov were making yet another round of drinks at the nearby table, and Sulu was attempting to fashion a Christmas tree out of the leafy plant they’d discovered on a small outer planet a month or so ago. No one seemed to have noticed, or be paying him much attention. _That’s a relief._

As for the Vulcan, Spock also seemed oblivious to Jim’s thoughts. _Thankfully_. It was incredible how he could infuriate and challenge Jim like no other, while at the same time cause his pulse to race, palms to sweat, and heart to flutter with just one disarming look.

_Get a grip, Jim. Maybe you have had one too many eggnogs..._

It had to have been the alcohol, because Jim never allowed himself to indulge in these sorts of ideations. Let alone do so while he was standing a mere few inches away from Spock. Jim tried to be discrete as he peeked up at Spock out of the corner of his eye, the taller man appearing to be content to observe the revelry. He must have felt Jim’s eyes on him, for no sooner had Jim glanced his way, than Spock half turned and threw him a quirked-up eyebrow.

“Having a good time, Captain?”

Trying to keep his voice casual, Jim gestured towards the party.

“Look at all this. I’d be a fool _not_ to be having a good time.”

“I have noticed you are enjoying the libations much more than usual, Captain,” the taller man mused. He mindlessly swirled the brandy in his glass, words just as smooth and intoxicating as the liquor.

Jim felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he took another sip of his eggnog.

“Been watching me, Mr. Spock?”

At his offhand comment, said much more flirtatiously than Jim would have ever normally allowed himself to sound, the drink in Spock’s hand stilled. He stood rigidly, knuckles white around his glass, eyes fixed unseeingly in front of him.

If Jim didn’t know any better, he would say that the Vulcan almost looked… _embarrassed_. 

In the moments after those words left his lips, Jim became acutely aware of the slight brushing of his golden sleeve against Spock’s blue shirt, the deep throaty sound of Spock’s breathing, the loudness of blood rushing in his own ears. Their proximity to one another was not unusual, but now it felt charged. A degree of heightened emotion and awareness permeating the air around them.

Something was different.

Something had changed. An unseen switch flicked.

It was easy to blame the sudden warmth in the room on the alcohol coursing through Jim’s system, but he knew that wasn’t the case.

Jim’s mind raced as quickly as his heartbeat, spurred ever on by his hefty dose of spirits. _What kind of a comment was that, Jim? Way to go and make your best friend uncomfortable. And seriously? That was borderline flirting. We’ve been over this God knows how many times. First off, you’re his commanding officer. It wouldn’t be right. And for another thing, it’s highly illogical to have a crush on a junior officer, as Spock would say._

 _"Jesus H. Christ. Have you no decency, man?”_ Jim mentally chided himself in Bones’ voice. He tried to catch Spock's gaze but to no avail. Those brown eyes glanced at him much too quickly before skating nervously away.

* * *

The alcohol in his stomach was churning nauseatingly as the tense silence lengthened.

Things between them had been minutely different since they’d beamed back from that red planet. Maybe it had something to do with Jim saving Spock’s life, or both of them almost dying. But afterwards, Spock had been a little quieter, had given Jim a little more space, and hadn’t stopped in for chess every night. All barely noticeable, almost imperceptible, changes to everyone else. But not to Jim.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Jim set his half-filled cup down on the table off to his left. Instead of talking to Spock, he was going to take the easy way out and run away. Disappear to his quarters to endure some mental chastising and a rigorous course of overthinking. He really shouldn’t stick around, because Jim couldn’t be sure what secret might slip out of his mouth when he was this drunk.

“I…uh…think I’ll turn in early,” Jim mumbled quickly. As he stepped away, a “goodnight” on his tongue, Jim all of a sudden felt himself _slipping_. The whole room tilted sickeningly but this time it wasn’t from the copious amounts of alcohol: a puddle of spilled eggnog had been conveniently located right where Jim had just stepped.

The drink, as all good brews had the capacity to do, graciously relieved him of his balance. With a slight yelp of surprise, Jim sent one hand out towards the table to try and stop his descent while the other shot out to his right. He thankfully managed to find some purchase and stay on his feet. It took him a few long moments to regain full control, as all around him continued to spin and his arms and legs felt like dead weight. But, miraculously, he hadn't landed on his ass.

 _It could have been much worse._ The slipping and catching himself was over rather quickly and no one in the room was paying him much mind, which he was thoroughly grateful for. _I suppose all the drinking is catching up with me-_

And then with a start, Jim realized how he had managed to stay upright.

His left arm never did reach the edge of the table. It was his right hand that had saved him. The same hand that was still gripped tightly around Spock’s forearm.

Jim glanced up at Spock, then down at his hand, then up again. The material of his friend’s shirt felt soft beneath his palm, and the sliver of skin Jim’s finger brushed against was impossibly warm to the touch. Panic gripped him as he all but snatched his hand away. He wasn’t sure why, but his reaction was instinctual, over and done with before he could even give it a second thought.

Embarrassment colored Jim’s cheeks as red as the decorations around him. He couldn’t speak. He could hardly breathe. He’d touched Spock before, but this felt…different.

_Why did this feel so different?_

Jim didn’t know why. It wasn’t rational in any way, shape, or form. But just as he’d been aware of how close the pair had been standing before, now their nearness was even more apparent. It almost overwhelmed him.

Tomorrow he’d be able to chalk it up to too much alcohol. Now, he needed space. He needed _air_. He needed…he needed to get out of there.

Tactfully avoiding Spock’s gaze, Jim straightened his uniform, and, with a mumbled farewell, hightailed it from the party. He managed to skirt the still present puddle on the floor. And he didn’t once look back.

* * *

If he had looked, Jim would have seen a telltale green tinge coloring Spock’s cheeks, his brown eyes wide with unconcealed emotion. The Vulcan, though he was loath to admit it, was flustered. He had seen Jim slip, and before he could even think to help, the other man had latched onto his arm. 

At the touch, Spock scarcely suppressed a shudder. For some unknown reason, ever since Jim had saved his life during the earthquake, just being near him threatened Spock’s well-rehearsed and reliable control over his emotions. Which was irksome, to say the least. He had meditated, he had ruminated, he had analyzed it in every single possible way, and yet he couldn’t determine just why his reaction to Jim was so different now. Why things between them felt changed. 

Well...there was an answer. But it wasn't one Spock wanted to give any credence to.

As his eyes followed Jim stumbling quickly out of the party, awkwardness radiating off of him in waves, Spock pursed his lips. For some reason, he found himself incredibly attune to his commanding officer’s feelings. Physical touch only seemed to magnify the experience a few times over. He’d first noticed it when Jim had latched onto his hand and saved his life. It happened again tonight, as Jim’s fingertips brushed the inside of his wrist, energy bursting between them, his friend's grip fierce. 

In that moment, an explosion of emotion had rocked him to his core. Confusion, affection, yearning, uncertainty, and mortification threatened to overwhelm him. Spock could see the unbridled cacophony of feelings burning in the man’s eyes, could sense the inescapable torrent radiating from Jim’s strong hold. 

It was fleeting and intense. _Remarkable._

And then it was over as quickly as it began. When Jim had removed his hand, Spock oddly missed the touch, felt incomplete in its absence. He hadn't even the time to formulate a logical reply when, quite suddenly, Jim was gone.

A shift had occurred in their relationship, that much was certain. These two instances, occurring so near in time, could not be divorced from one another and were indicative of some new factor in their relationship. But that is where the logic in this situation ended. Spock was finding that hardly anything about him and his... _feelings_ for Jim made sense.

These feelings were the answer to this change, but they were the answer he didn't want to acknowledge.

Spock knew these feelings had existed along the periphery of his mind for some time; he had recognized them and successfully ignored them every moment of every day until that fateful afternoon when Jim had saved his life. Now, they consumed him, confounded him; filled him with hope and want. Scaring him. Fascinating him. Driving him insane.

They could no longer be denied. 

His breath caught in his throat as he remembered the feel of Jim’s hand grasping him, the electricity of fingers on his skin. The way a fire had lit within his chest at catching Jim's eyes and hearing his laughter. How it had taken every ounce of his self-control to remain poised, professional, and detached when he had been standing so impossibly close to Jim.

The captain had been right, too. Spock had been watching him. He hadn't been able to help that his gaze constantly found its way back to admire the flush of rounded cheeks, the twinkle in those dark eyes, the dazzling smile that blocked out everything else in the world. 

There was no refuting it or ignoring it any longer: Spock had fallen for James Tiberius Kirk.


	3. Wake Up

_Wake up._

_Come on, you infuriating Vulcan. Just wake up._

Jim scrubbed a hand down his face as he readjusted his position in the uncomfortable sickbay chair. He’d lost count of the hours he’d been here. In his quarters, asleep and resting comfortably was precisely where he should be at the moment. It was where Bones had told him to go, and Jim knew he was right. Sulu was manning the bridge, Uhura was taking care of the reports, and the ship was traveling quickly away from danger. He didn’t need to be doing anything in particular. He should be resting.

But he wanted to be here.

* * *

_9 hours previously..._

**_Jim stood firmly, cool eyes staring down the phaser pointed his direction. If this was it, this was it. No escaping, no quippy joke, no amount of sarcasm or confidence to get him out. At least, with the weapon pointed at him, it would give the others a chance to fight back or get away. Spock would know exactly what to do. He’d keep them safe. Briefly, Jim wished he’d told Spock how he’d felt about him. But it seemed that would be a secret he’d be taking to his grave._ **

**_Time slowed. Everything around Jim faded into the background. All he could see was the end of the phaser and the malicious eyes of the man holding it._ **

**_He didn’t notice as his companions began to struggle against their captors. He didn’t notice that Spock managed to overpower his two guards, or how he broke into a run aiming straight towards the man with the weapon._ **

**_Just as the trigger was being pulled, Jim let his eyes slip shut. He released a shaky breath and welcomed death._**

**_But it never came._**

**_No pain or shot or impact of any kind. Bewildered, Jim opened his eyes at the scene before him._ **

**_Spock had tackled the man holding him at gunpoint. Pandemonium ensued._**

****

**_Jim spun on his heel, helping take care of the last of their captors and freeing the other members of their landing party. Punches were thrown, kicks and elbows colliding painfully, the survival instinct overpowering. At the end, the members of the landing party were all on their feet. Victorious. Besides being roughly handled, a split lip for Scotty, and a bloody nose and swollen knuckles for Jim, everyone seemed to be alright. Jim couldn't help the smile that spread across his face._**

**_He was alive._ **

**_The captain was just beginning to revel in the relief of successfully emerging from yet another brush with danger, when he heard Bones’ cry of alarm._ **

**_The_ ** **_doctor was crouched over a slumped form on the ground, tricorder in hand._ **

**_Jim prayed harder than he ever had before that it was his captor Bones was surveying. But he knew in his gut, with his spirits sinking heavily into the soles of his boots, that it could only be one person._ **

**_Spock._ **

**_The next few minutes passed in a blur._ **

**_Bones kept yelling about a phaser wound, and losing a lot of blood, and unconsciousness, and a plethora of other medical jargon that Jim just couldn’t keep track of. Jim knew he should do something, anything. But he just stood rooted in place, staring unblinkingly at Spock’s pale face and the rapidly growing dark splotch blossoming on his side…_ **

* * *

That had been an indeterminate amount of hours ago now. Jim couldn't be sure how many. His nose had stopped bleeding awhile ago, and his hand was nicely swollen, but the only person Jim cared about was Spock. Bones had assured the captain that Spock would be alright; they’d beamed up quickly after the injury and the blast hadn’t hit anything that couldn’t be fixed. His chances were really good. Now they just had to wait for Spock to wake up.

“If he wakes up,” Jim muttered darkly before mentally berating himself. _He’ll wake up. He has to._ Bones could have reassured him and made promises to the nearest moon and back and it wouldn’t have made a difference. Spock was lying in sickbay because he’d saved Jim’s life. And the captain was positively, absolutely overwhelmed by how that made him feel.

There were too many emotions coursing through his veins at alarming rates and Jim couldn’t keep track of them all. Too many thoughts shouting from every corner in his brain louder and louder, begging to be heard. He was filled with wanton appreciation, undefinable affection, all-consuming guilt...he was drowning. 

The only certainties Jim could cling to were the beeping of the vital machine hanging on the wall, the ache in his back from sitting in this uncomfortable chair too long, and the hypnotic breathing of the man in the bed reassuring Jim at steady intervals that he was still alive.

Nothing else made sense. Everything within him was chaos...

* * *

Jim blearily blinked his eyes as he came crawling on all fours towards consciousness. He had fallen asleep, that much was clear, but the _when_ , the _where_ , and the _why_ calculatingly evaded him. Remained annoyingly just beyond his grasp.

The grittiness behind his eyelids and the permanent knot in his back told him he hadn’t been asleep very long. The bright lights from sickbay answered his second question. The two voices in the room answered the third.

Bones was talking to the person in the bed next to him, no trace of unbridled concern in his tone. Just his usual brash annoyance.

Shaking his head, the scene around Jim came into focus and he hurtled startingly back to the present. _The landing. The capture. The fight. Spock tackling the man with the blaster. Bones’ frantic tone. The way Spock’s blood dampened his blue top. The pale face, the shut eyes…_

“Morning, sunshine. Or should I say evening. You’ve been in that chair awhile Jim.”

“Approximately 8 hours, 29 minutes, and 50 seconds.”

“Now how _on earth_ would you know that?!”

“Well, seeing as we are not anywhere near the planet you call ‘earth’, I do not see the relevancy to your question. But in answer, I merely calculated the extent of my injury, my recuperation time, factoring in-”

“Alright, alright, I get the picture,” Bones replied gruffly. “Jim? You alright?”

The captain was embarrassed to realize that since he’d opened his eyes, he hadn’t been able to take them off of Spock. _He’s breathing, he’s talking, he’s annoying Bones which means he’s practically back to normal! He’s alive._

Before Jim could even think about the ramifications of his actions, he’d jumped up from his chair and enveloped Spock in a bone crushing hug. He was mindful of the Vulcan’s injured side as well, because a verbal tongue lashing from Bones was not on his to do list for the night. Jim gripped him fiercely, pouring everything he’d felt and thought, every uncertainty, into that embrace. Grabbing him, crushing him against his chest. Hoping that the gesture would be enough to show Spock how much he appreciated what he’d done. How deeply he felt about him. How he could never put into words what it meant to have his best friend save his life and almost lose his own in the process.

At the first touch, Spock went rigid. He could tell the captain needed this as a means of processing what had happened and as a method of conveying how he felt. Normally, physical touch was distasteful, at most something that just existed as neither a detriment nor a benefit. It just was.

But not with Jim. Touch with him felt completely different, contradictory even. It went against everything he thought he believed and everything he’d been taught about the act. In his life, he’d been hugged a total of four times including this one. But this was unlike any of those times, unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

This felt…right.

Fighting every fiber of his being that screamed out to him to lean into the embrace, to breathe in Jim’s scent, to revel in the electrifying rightness of the moment, Spock remained stiff. He brought up the arm on his good side and gave two quick pats to Jim’s back. On the last he let his long fingers linger at the feel of the rough fabric, the hard muscles bending beneath his touch.

The pair stayed this way, Jim holding onto Spock for dear life and Spock unmoving, for exactly seven-point-three seconds. At seven-point-four seconds, Jim realized what he’d been doing and that they weren’t _alone._

He released Spock quickly but gently, eyes flicking over to the only other person in the room. Bones wore an amused smirk, eyebrows raised in fascination, with not an ounce of shock or surprise hiding in his expression. He thought it was about damn time one of the two most stubborn people he’d ever met made a move. If you count a desperate hug after almost being killed a move. Bones did.

Jim cleared his throat awkwardly and blinked the wetness from his eyes as he got to his feet. He absentmindedly straightened his uniform, looking between Spock and Bones. He knew he should say something, but words were completely failing him. For someone who always knew the right thing to say, who could use turns of phrase effortlessly and toss expressions back and forth with gracefulness and dexterity, Jim was now…speechless. Entirely at a loss.

This was new territory for Jim and he hated it. Uncertainty coiled in his chest and threaded through his mind. He opened his mouth, hoping something coherent, intelligent, or at least _intelligible_ came out.

But nothing did.

Bones’ eyes were alight with amusement and Spock was staring at him with a thinly veiled intensity. 

The awkwardness, on Jim’s part, climbed exponentially with each passing moment. He wracked his brain for something, _anything,_ to say and just kept coming up blank. After what felt like years, Bones decided to help his friend out because he wasn’t totally heartless. Clearing his throat, the doctor caught the attention of his patient and the uncomfortable captain.

“I’ve got a few tests to run, Jim. Why don’t you do what I _told_ you to do nine hours ago and get some sleep? I’ll keep an eye on Mr. Spock here. He’s out of danger, for the foreseeable future, but if something happens, I’ll let you know. Sound peachy?”

Jim let out a heavy sigh and sent Bones a quick nod of appreciation. His eyes said, _Thanks I owe you one._ Jim turned back towards Spock, eyes brimming with unspoken words. As much as he wanted to turn and flee the awkward situation he’d created, Jim was also pulled by an invisible urge to remain by Spock’s bedside. He didn’t want to leave. He almost thought he couldn’t.

“Yeah. Right. I-uh-I’ll be in my quarters.” Jim paused briefly, staring deep into Spock’s beautiful eyes, raw emotion burning in the link between them.

“ _T_ _hank you._ ”

Jim whispered those two words like a secret prayer, intended only for Spock’s ears. They sent a shiver down the Vulcan’s spine and stole the air from his lungs. Amazing entities human beings are, to be able to pack, fit, and cram so much into so little.

* * *

Spock once again found himself watching his captain’s retreating form, but this time under very different circumstances. A part of his brain reminded him he shouldn’t stare. People might get the wrong idea. But as the days had turned into weeks, and weeks had turned into months…he found, as time heals all wounds, it too diminishes that which had at first terrified him. It lessens and softens. Offers space for reflection. The beauty of perspective. It took a second brush with death to make him realize nothing was promised and tomorrow may never come, so why live your life in fear? Why not do what scares you and chase even the remotest possibility of happiness? Other people guessing his true feelings may not be the catastrophic, world-ending event he had initially believed it to be.

Briefly, he considered calling out to Jim and laying it all on the line right then and there. He may be suffering the effects of some hypo Doctor McCoy had given him, which made his tongue freer and his mind unencumbered by rational barriers. Still, he couldn’t reduce his urge for truth and his desire to open his heart to Jim as just the effects of a drug. His heart ached for this release. But his logical mind won the day, as he decided against it. The doors shut with a hiss behind Jim and the opportunity was gone.

Probably for the best; he was lying with a healing wound to his side and weaker than he would have liked. This was not the way these things should be done. He’d have to find the right time, the right moment. Because he _was_ going to tell him. He had to.

Spock relaxed back onto the bed, reveling in the lingering warmth from where Jim had held him. It blocked out any pain he felt from his injury, shrouding him in a blanket of fervent safety. Just as that strong grip at the holiday party, the embrace felt _right._

* * *

Bones watched as Spock’s eyes slipped shut, the monitor above his bed reassuring the doctor that his friend was out of danger and merely needed rest. He would be the first to admit that seeing the Vulcan curled on the ground, hands pressed to the blaster wound on his side, blood flowing freely over his pale skin, scared him to within an inch of his life. The only other person who seemed worse off than he was, was Jim. Jim hadn’t been able to tear his eyes from Spock after he’d crouched down next to the doctor. Bones could feel fear and concern rolling off of the man in waves, oblivious to all else around him.

He hadn’t been able to get Jim to rest when they’d carried Spock into sickbay. The man steadfastly remained through the evaluation, quick surgery, and recuperation, taking up his vigil in an uncomfortable chair by Spock’s bed. Bones had ordered him half a dozen times to leave and get some sleep, but Jim either didn’t hear him or didn’t care.

Not that the doctor was surprised.

Bones set about checking Spock’s vitals and the bandage around his torso. The readings from his tricorder and the display confirmed that the Vulcan would come out of this ordeal no worse for wear. He’d have to take it easy while he healed of course, but he’d be fine. The doctor observed that the Vulcan was either asleep or meditating, eyes firmly shut throughout his ministrations. He briefly considered rousing Spock to ask how he was feeling. In his mind, he could practically hear the Vulcan's clipped retort: _“Feeling, Doctor? You know quite well that Vulcans do not feel.”_ Even so, Bones wanted to be sure that Spock didn’t need anything or was in any pain. As important as the doctor-patient questions were, he might also have been very interested in hearing Spock’s opinion on the embrace. But that was better saved for another, more appropriate time.

As he finished up, Bones couldn’t help the whispered comment that fell from his lips.

“That was some hug, Spock.”

If the heartrate monitor increased quite a few numbers, Bones pretended not to notice. What was apparent, however, was that there was something going on between the captain and the first officer. Something that couldn’t be ignored or discounted. Bones smiled at the thought.

_It was about damn time._


	4. My Rock

_Jim was running. Where, he didn’t know. His legs burned, his chest ached with every breath, and yet he pressed on. Fear clipped at his heels and drove him faster, pushing the limits of his physical strength and ability. He had to keep running or else they’d catch him._

_But who? Who was chasing him?_

_He didn’t dare look back, for he knew they were close._

_Whoever they were. _

_He just had to keep running._

_Dodging trees and hurtling fallen branches, Jim dove into the depths of a foreign forest. Nothing looked familiar. His sense of direction was frustratingly absent. Where was he?_

_He had no clue…_

**_Thwack!_ **

_Jim fell with a cry, tumbling head over heels painfully to the unforgiving ground._ _His heart leapt into his throat as he recognized the weight of a coarse rope knotted around his legs. They’d caught him._

_Jim heard his chasers nearing, sinister laughter echoing hauntingly between the trees. He pulled and pulled at his bonds. But he knew his efforts were futile._

_All at once, Jim remembered where he was._

_Why he was running._

_And who was chasing him._

_Tears welled in his eyes as a cold knot settled in his stomach._

_It couldn’t be, he couldn’t be back here._

_“No, no, no, no, no…”_

_It wasn’t possible._

_And yet the rope dug painfully into his legs, the stench of musty earth filled his nose, and terror consumed him._

_He knew exactly where he was. _

_Jim kept pulling at the restraints until his fingers bled. Even as his hunters surrounded him, Jim didn’t stop trying to escape._

_Keep fighting, just keep fighting. Don’t stop…_

_He cried out as one of them smashed something into the back of his head, splaying him roughly into the dirt. Blinking quickly, Jim tried to catch his breath. Willing the earth beneath him to stop spinning and wishing his heart would stop thudding uncomfortably into his ribcage._

_“Now why did you run, Jim? This is the what? Eighth time in two days? I’m disappointed. Tsk tsk. I would have thought you’d have learned your lesson. You know what has to happen now…”_

_An icy tendril of dread tightened in his throat._

_He knew that voice._

_But it couldn’t be._

_It couldn’t._

_He was almost too afraid to look. But he reminded himself, almost forcefully: Don’t stop fighting. Don’t let them see your pain._ _Swallowing his fear, Jim stared up defiantly into a pair of sinister eyes he thought he’d never see again._

_“Kodos.”_

Jim shot up violently, sheets tangled around him and sweat clinging to every inch of his body. His heart was racing faster than if he’d just sprinted a mile, his panic as tangible as the bed beneath him. It took him a few uncertain moments to realize where he was. That he wasn’t actually a young boy back on Tarsus IV, subject to the whims of a violent, insane man. He was on the Enterprise. Light years and literal years away from that place. From _him._

But the logicality of his reasoning wasn’t doing anything for his overflowing emotions. Jim felt as if he couldn’t catch his breath, his eyes darting frantically around the room of their own accord, his anxiety pulsating and growing. The woods loomed out from the dark corners of his quarters. Kodos’ laugh taunted him from the ghosts of his memories. That pain, that blinding pain, still fresh and soul-crushing.

Jim sprang to his feet quickly, wobbling on unsteady legs. He just needed to relax. He needed to _breathe_. He didn’t need to run anywhere, hide or disappear. He just…he just needed…Jim didn’t know. He had nowhere to go.

He was alone.

It took a moment, but he soon realized the wetness he felt on his cheeks was...tears. His tears.

The dream had felt so _real._

Jim collapsed to the floor with a sob, his energy spent. Shoving his back against the wall, he brought his knees to his chest and encircled his arms around them protectively. Making himself as small as he could. He’d stay here for just a minute, and then he’d be fine.

Just a minute…

Spock wasn’t certain what drove him from his meditation. Suddenly, the calm sea he had been floating in disappeared and he was forced rudely back to reality. He peered around, wondering what had done it.

A small voice in the back of his mind screamed one word. _Jim._

Why, he did not know. It was the middle of the night, or what passed as night on a starship. He and the captain had parted ways a mere two hours ago; not that the captain couldn’t find some sort of trouble to get into in that time frame…

Spock decided, however illogical, that he may as well just go check. The worst that could happen was that Jim was perfectly alright and he’d slink back across the hall slightly more embarrassed than when he’d left.

Not bothering to fix his uniform or pause to reconsider, Spock left his quarters and crossed the hall towards Jim’s. He listened for a moment at the door, holding his breath. He didn’t hear anything from inside. No noise or sound that signaled distress. No evidence of why the thought of Jim had roused him from his meditation and compelled him across the hall late at night.

Spock was just about to turn away when he heard something indiscernible. Something that soundly strangely like a… _sob._

Heart in his throat, Spock punched in the override code. He barreled into the room, mind busy calculating at least 52 different scenarios of what he was about to find. A mere 13% of those were good.

But for some reason, he hadn’t considered _this_ particular situation.

Jim was sitting in a corner, arms wrapped protectively around his knees, head raised and eyes blown wide in fear. The sheets were tangled and half fallen off the bed, as disheveled in appearance as the man on the floor. Spock could hear his friend’s frantic breathing, could sense the apprehension hanging heavily in the room. Seeing Jim in this way tugged strongly at something in the Vulcan’s heart. If he didn’t know any better, he might have called it empathy.

He crossed the room in three long strides, gracefully lowering himself to the floor a foot away from the captain. All other thoughts were silenced, all else in his brain ignored. The only thing that mattered in this moment was Jim. 

Leaning his back against the wall, Spock eyed Jim uncertainly, every intention of comforting his friend…but unsure how. He observed quietly as Jim became aware of his presence, panicked eyes flittering around the room before landing startlingly on him. The depth and rawness of the pain in those eyes constricted Spock’s throat.

It was a pain that raked at the Vulcan’s skin and seared agonizingly into his mind. It pressed against him like an unseen weight, heavily burdening him with the rusty shackles of despair. _A nightmare. His first in a long time._ Spock remained silent and strong, eyes never leaving Jim’s face. Ready to lend a hand when the other man needed it…

Jim felt like he was drowning. The ghosts of his past clawed at him, tormented him; cruelly torturing his sleeping and waking moments. It had been a long time since he’d had woken up crying out in terror. Usually, _thankfully_ , he was alone. He would sit like an empty shell on the floor until he could pick himself back up and crawl exhausted into bed. If anyone happened to notice the purple patches beneath his eyes the next day, they didn’t say anything.

Kodos hadn’t visited him in his nightmares for years. The fear still felt so real, the forest he tried escaping through seared into his mind every time he shut his eyes. That sadistic laughter maliciously toying with him. Painful recollections, morphed mercilessly into dreams, emerging unbidden from the depths of his memory…

Jim shuddered involuntarily.

In the dark, he slowly became aware of someone sitting next to him. He was startled, but only momentarily.

Kind brown eyes shining in a familiar face grounded the captain.

_Spock._

He shot out a hand and grabbed at Spock’s leg, latching onto him, desperately needing to see if this was real. If Spock was real.

The warmth Jim sensed beneath his palm assuaged all of his creeping doubts. With another sob building in his chest, he let his tether to Spock bring him gradually back to himself. _I’m on the Enterprise. I’m not on Tarsus IV. I’m in my quarters. I’m with Spock. I’m safe._ He worked on slowing his breathing, calming his racing heart. Rolling his shoulders to rid the lingering tension. Wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and the tears from his cheeks. _I’m with Spock. I’m safe._ He repeated this over and over until he felt almost back to normal.

The pair sat in silence, Jim’s shaky breathing the only sound echoing in the dark room. Spock shifted a little closer until he was almost shoulder to shoulder with the other man, Jim’s hand still clenched tightly in the fabric of his pants.

Jim closed his eyes and let out a final, halting breath. Spock sensed his friend had regained control of himself and his emotions. Although his hand was still gripping Spock’s leg.

Entirely oblivious to the other, the two men were both thinking about how they didn’t want to move. Spock liked Jim being so close, and Jim drew much needed security from Spock’s presence.

The Vulcan began to count Jim’s breaths, concentrating on the long inhales and only somewhat shaky exhales. Each one steadier than the last. He thought briefly that maybe he should leave. But something in Jim’s desperate hold on his leg kept him rooted in place.

Minutes dragged ever on. Twenty-six exactly since Spock had rushed into the room to find Jim anxious and afraid, curled in on himself in the corner. Twenty-three since Jim realized he was there and gripped his leg fiercely. Nineteen since his breathing and heartrate had normalized. And now, his best friend’s head was listing to the side, fighting the lull of sleep.

Closing the remaining distance between the two, Spock let Jim’s head fall to his shoulder softly. Without looking, the Vulcan could tell Jim’s eyes were shut as unconsciousness beckoned. Each inhale and exhale now deep and steady, rhythmic and reassuring.

Spock settled back against the wall, readjusting slightly to find a comfortable position, but trying his best not to jostle Jim’s head from its perch. He was content to remain there on the floor for as long as his friend needed him.

As Spock shifted beneath his head, Jim tried to quell the surge of panic that tore through his veins. “Don’t…leave. _Please_ ,” he whispered, almost too quietly for his friend to hear. He hated the broken sound of his own voice. But if Spock were here, at least the next time he woke up he wouldn’t be alone. His fingers tightened subconsciously in Spock’s pant leg.

“Rest, Captain. I will stay.”

Jim fell asleep with Spock’s reassurance softly echoing in his ear. He felt safe, with his hand gripping Spock and his head on his best friend’s shoulder. The ground wasn’t the most comfortable place, but that was neither here nor there.

Spock was able to discern precisely when Jim finally relinquished himself to his exhaustion. The weight on his shoulder slumped further against him and the grip holding onto his leg slackened. His one hope was that the captain’s sleep was dreamless.

There were precisely five hours and forty-three minutes until they had to be awake for their shift. Spock deemed it wise to remain by Jim’s side the entire time. They might both be stiff from sitting and sleeping on the floor all night. Interestingly, Spock didn’t mind.

He rather liked listening to Jim’s rumbling exhales. They calmed him. 

Satisfied that Jim was truly asleep, Spock let his own eyes slip shut. Instead of resting, he determined to resume his meditation; traveling to the oft frequented calm shores of his mind. There were numerous things to mull over in these next few hours. One being that Jim would probably avoid talking about what had happened and brush it off like a casual occurrence. This was his captain’s way of dealing with issues that were too painful to fully accept. Humans were fascinating in this aspect. But Spock figured it was similar in nature to his constant delay of telling Jim his true feelings. Compartmentalization, willful ignorance. Easy choices. Like the ones Spock used to make. Not any more, however. Once the right moment came along, Spock would tell him…

With a frustrated huff, Spock found he couldn’t quite submerge into the tranquil waters of his meditation. _Unsurprising._ It probably, _definitely,_ had something to do with the warmth of Jim’s hand on his leg and the way Jim’s head seemed to fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. It derailed all his thoughts and mindful practices. Being so close like this…yes, there was a slim chance he’d be relaxed enough to meditate at all tonight.

But, as he leaned his head down to rest atop Jim’s, Spock realized he couldn’t bring himself to care.


	5. Steady On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next two chapters are a wee bit different since they will be continuations of each other! I wanted the last time Jim grabbed Spock and then the time Spock grabbed him to be connected. Enjoy!

“Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Sulu!”

“I-I’m trying, Captain!”

“Keptin, ze veapon iz recharging!” Chekov interjected, eyes frantically glancing between the captain and his monitor. Him and Sulu were expertly, if not also rather anxiously, pushing buttons, reading assessments, and doing their damnedest to get the Enterprise out of harm’s way.

“Captain, shields at 62%. We can only sustain one other direct hit from their weapon system before our defenses are compromised,” Spock briefed. Jim threw him a curt nod, appreciative for his cool head in times of mounting stress.

_Breathe, Jim. You’ve done this hundreds of times before. Stay focused._

These were precisely the moments where Jim thrived. He craved the adrenaline of high stakes and near-death experiences. This was when he knew, without a flicker of a doubt, that he was meant to be sitting in this chair. He himself was as stressed inwardly as Sulu and Chekov, but he projected an air of calm that rivaled Spock’s. Jim bore the weight of the captaincy with grace, recognizing its awesome power and never losing sight of his incredible responsibility.

With a poised authority ringing in his words, he dished out instructions to Lieutenant Uhura to continue trying to contact higher command, instructed Mr. Scott to give the engines everything they’ve got, and directed Sulu and Chekov to get the Enterprise as far away from the attacking ship as possible. They’d been in situations like this before and had come out all right.

Everything would be fine.

Just when Jim saw Spock walking his way out of the corner of his eye, and got to his feet to meet him, all hell broke loose.

Chekov’s warning about the weapon recharging echoed in Jim’s ears as the Enterprise was hit again. The entire deck shook violently, the shock from the impact making itself known. Alarms blared, lights flickered, and the crew’s cries reverberated loudly in the small space.

Without a second thought, Jim dove towards Spock. The Vulcan had lost his footing and he was falling backwards, dangerously close to colliding unforgivingly with the edge of the platform. Jim latched onto Spock’s arm in the nick of time, yanking him upright. He kept a firm grip as his first officer found his balance on the shuddering and shifting bridge floor.

Dark eyes searched Spock’s face, a gentleness present amidst the intense focus.

“Alright, Mr. Spock?”

The taller man nodded briefly. His face and eyes betrayed nothing.

“Affirmative, Captain.”

Jim squeezed Spock's arm reassuringly. A whisper of a thought danced through Jim's mind about how close they were standing and how strong Spock felt beneath his grasp. But there were more pressing matters.

With a small smile, Jim released his grip, racing off to check on everyone else on the bridge. Crew members were dazedly lying on the floor or leaning heavily on their instrument panels, shaken by the impact. Jim helped Sulu off the floor and patted Chekov’s shoulder, both men coughing and scared, but otherwise unharmed.

Efficiently, the captain made his way around the rest of the room. Some minor injuries here and there, but otherwise the crew was fine.

“Mr. Spock, status reports from all sections. Lieutenant Uhura, get the wounded members down to sickbay and replacements up here quickly. We’ve got at least another 60 seconds before their weapon is recharged. I want us out of the path of that blast _now._ ”

Jim retook the captain’s seat, and while he divided his focus amongst the recovering bridge members, his gaze skittered often towards his first officer. He thought Spock still looked a little stunned, but thankfully he was uninjured. His friend rattled off the statuses knowledgeably and proficiently as always, the barest waver in his strong voice.

“Mr. Sulu, get us out of here.”

Approximately 47 seconds later, the Enterprise was warping speedily away from their attacker. They might be limping along, and Scotty might be swearing himself backwards and forwards all over the engine room, but they’d gotten away. As the certainty of security increased, Jim allowed himself to relax marginally. They weren’t being followed or pursued. His ship was battered, but not broken.

_They’d gotten away._

Coming down from his adrenaline high, Jim leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin. He glanced quickly towards his first officer and was somewhat disappointed to find his back turned and his focus on his monitor. Jim had hoped he could catch another glimpse of those intoxicating brown eyes.

His gut instinct at realizing the ship had been hit was to save Spock. Funny, wasn’t it? That when shit went down and danger loomed around every corner, they each always went to save the other. Every time. Impulsively. Reflexively. It was probably what made them such a good team. They looked out for one another constantly, balanced each other. Complementary and supportive. Jim knew their bond was unique, unlike any friendship or relationship he’d ever had or experienced before. For him, though, there was an added layer. One of affection so deep and raw it threatened to burst free every second. But Spock most certainly didn’t feel the same. He couldn’t. Jim saved Spock because he was his best friend, because he couldn’t imagine a world without him, because _he loved him_. Spock saved him because he was his captain. His sense of duty and purpose outweighed all else. There was not even a smattering of hope that his actions had been a manifestation of any existence of _emotions._ As Spock always said, Vulcans do not feel.

Jim didn’t need reminding.

He listened as Chekov reported they were nearing a Star Fleet base, and would be able to dock there and repair the damage they’d sustained. Responding with a brief nod, he rose and made his way towards the lift.

“I’m headed to sickbay. Spock, the bridge is yours.”

He entered the lift consumed by his thoughts. Jim really tried to keep his focus on the ship and the crew, the responsibilities that he owned as captain, but it was difficult. More and more frequently, he found his mind revolving around Spock.

Little did the captain know, the Vulcan was suffering a similar affliction. He’d done an impressive job of retaining his composure on the bridge, not letting it show how affected he was by Jim touching him yet again. The attack had been inconsequential. Jim’s strong grip on his arm…was…tormenting. He wanted it desperately and yet his mind rebelled at the surge of emotions. A war raged inside of him. His heart and mind, forever at odds. Now even more so.

He took the captain’s chair coolly, directing Mr. Sulu to maintain speed and course towards the nearest base. Mr. Scott came on the communicator, reporting that, though the damage was extensive, the engine was running smoothly on emergency power and the shields were back up. They needed to get repairs done in a timely manner. But it wasn’t emergent.

Turning at the sound of the lift, Spock locked eyes with Jim as the doors shut.

He wondered if now might be an appropriate time to talk with him. He could easily pass the bridge to Mr. Sulu and catch the captain before he got to sickbay. _What was that human expression? No time like the present._ Spock mentally weighed the pros and cons for three and a half seconds before deciding he’d do it. He was going to tell Jim. Right now.

As the Vulcan got to his feet, mind made up, the last thing any of them expected happened.

There was a large explosion, a catastrophic noise, and then…nothing.


	6. My T'hy'la

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have reached the end! Did I just write a short novel for this chapter? Like…maybe. Lol. Enjoy the final installment of this “five times” extravaganza!
> 
> Again, forgive any inaccuracies (still a very new fan). And there's just a wee bit of language!

Bones was a very…expressive man. He recognized this about himself. Loud, somewhat abrasive, occasionally rude, always ready to speak his mind. And he cared.

It was one of the things he prided himself most on as a medical officer: he gave a shit about his patients. Maybe that was just the human in him. But he firmly believed that his emotions made him a better doctor, and a better friend.

So, when Spock came running through the sickbay doors with Jim bloody and unconscious in his arms, Bones did what he always did: expressed.

“What the actual fuck, Spock?! What happened?!”

“There is no time to explain, doctor.” Spock’s tone was clipped. “He needs attention. _Now_!”

Bones quirked up an eyebrow at the obvious feeling in Spock’s words but chose, wisely, not to say anything about it. Instead, he directed Spock towards the nearest bed and set to work.

Scanning quickly, Bones felt a cold pit of fear settle in his stomach.

Jim looked… _bad_. Very bad. The doctor knew the bridge had been hit and the ship had taken a beating, but he’d heard it was only minor injuries. His eyes raised to observe the Vulcan as he grabbed for his tricorder. The taller man was leaning heavily against the bed, breathing erratically and staring intensely at Jim. Bones tried not to let it show how troubled he was by Spock’s odd demeanor. He was acting highly unusual…emotional, even.

Whatever had happened had shaken Spock to his very core.

* * *

_As the Vulcan got to his feet, mind made up, the last thing any of them expected happened._

_There was a large explosion, a catastrophic noise, and then…nothing._

_Spock opened his eyes to note that he was lying on his back staring at the ceiling of the bridge. Memories came back to him in quick succession as he sat up slowly._

_Others were getting to their feet or helping others up. Everyone seemed to be alright._

_He became aware of Lieutenant Uhura crouched down next to him, her eyes swimming with concern._

_“Mr. Spock? Mr. Spock are you okay?”_

_Waving a hand dismissively, Spock got to his feet, dark eyes quickly assessing and scanning._

_“Status report. What caused that explosion?”_

_“Ze varpdrive! Zere vas a latent surge from ze emergency power, sir. I hev already contacted Meester Scott.”_

_Spock’s relief at realizing they weren’t being attacked again vanished quickly beneath a mask of calm professionalism._

_“Emergency protocols started, Mr. Spock.” Uhura briefed, catching the acting captain’s attention. “Engineering is at the blast site on Deck 9 for damage control and all medical teams are on standby for casualties.”_

_Spock sent her a curt nod._

_“Thank you, Lieutenant. Survival of the ship is our number one priority. And send a message to Mr. Scott; senior staff will be meeting in five minutes on the bridge.”_

_“Ehh. Meester Spock, sir? I do not think Meester Scott vill be up here in time. Zee lift system is not operational at zee moment.”_

_Spock felt himself go cold at Chekov’s words. The lift system. Jim was in the lift._

_Without another word, Spock sped towards the elevator. He stopped a foot away from the lift doors and waited for them to open, just like they always did._

_But...they didn't._

_Spock tapped a few buttons on the control panel and drummed his fingers impatiently. Still no_ _movement._ _Growling in frustration, he punched in the override code with more force than strictly necessary._

_But the doors still wouldn’t open._

_A bright red light began to blink on the panel, incessantly informing him that something was wrong. As if that much wasn't already obvious._ _Furiously, Spock began to flick switches and press buttons, trying to determine just what had happened._

_What he found...just couldn't be correct._

_The fear that had taken root in Spock’s heart began to reach new heights. It was a highly illogical reaction, but one he had no power to contain, as it increased exponentially with every passing moment._ _Desperately, he wished the data readouts from his queries were wrong, inaccurate somehow. But with dread sinking like a pit in his stomach, Spock knew the computer was right. There was a sys_ _tem failure._ _A reboot or reset was impossible._ _The turbolift was damaged and un_ _responsive on Deck 11. Only two floors away from the explosion..._

_Jim. He had to get to Jim._

_Spock whirled towards the emergency stairwell. He paused just long enough to tell Sulu that he was in charge of the bridge before he was speeding downwards, jaw set stubbornly in an attempt to tamp down his emotions._

_His only thought was of Jim._

_Hoping against all hope that his friend hadn’t been in the lift when the explosion occurred. That this was all just an overreaction and Jim was fine. That he would open the lift doors and find him annoyed at being stuck in such a small space, a joke about arriving better late than never diffusing the tense situation._

_He really, really hoped._

_Spock hadn’t reached Deck 11 as quickly as he had wanted to. Between utilizing only the emergency stairwells, avoiding crewmembers, and skirting the damage on Deck 9, it had taken him approximately 6 minutes and 37 seconds. Much too long for his liking._

_He sprinted towards the lift doors, hopes rising as he saw the doors partially open. Skidding to a halt, he pried them the rest of the way apart. What met him was emptiness._

_He looked up first, but nothing. Looking down, his heart in his throat, he was able to make out to top of the lift a few feet below where he was standing. A shaky exhale escaped his lips._

_Carefully, Spock made his way down the shaft until he was standing precariously on the roof. The dented, soot-covered roof. He was glad he didn’t just jump down, the top appeared as if it were about to cave in._

_Fear quickening his movements, he seized the handle of the emergency hatch cover and pulled. Nothing. He pulled again, harder this time. Still nothing. Gripping the handle with both hands, Spock heaved upwards with all his strength._

_A terrible screeching of metal on metal assaulted his ears before the hatch flew up and off its hinges. Not a moment to lose, Spock jumped down into the lift and prayed Jim wasn’t in there._

_The sight that met him chilled the blood in his veins._

_Jim was lying right next to the doorway, unmoving. Crimson matted his hair and stained his golden uniform, debris from the caved in ceiling littered across his frame and the floor around him._

_Spock was kneeling at his side in a flash._

_He could hardly breathe as he reached uncertain fingers towards Jim’s neck. Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive…weak thumps beneath his touch assured Spock that his friend was still with him._

_“Captain. Jim. Can you hear me?”_

_Spock waited._

_No sound came from the unconscious man._

_Trying to keep his distress in check, Spock hesitated, hands stopped in the air above Jim’s form. There were undoubtedly injuries Spock couldn’t see or ascertain, and moving him would likely be painful. But he truly didn’t have a choice. The odds of Jim’s survival if they remained in the lift were…Spock shook his head, but no number jumped to mind._

_It was too terrible an outcome to compute._

_Mind made up, Spock gently lifted Jim off the ground. He was heavier than he expected, and it took a few tries for the Vulcan to position his load in a way that allowed him to climb out of the lift without causing Jim any new injury or pain._

_By the time he was done, Spock was breathing heavily. He knelt on the lift cover, Jim set down gently next to him, as he determined the best way to get them both back onto Deck 11._

_Spock sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The fact that Jim still hadn’t stirred was incredibly worrisome…but he tried not to think about that. He had to get the captain to Doctor McCoy as quickly as he possibly could. Everything else, especially how he was feeling, was inconsequential._

_Rising unsteadily, Spock looked between the unconscious man at his feet and the lift doorway above. It seemed much further that he remembered. Even though logically, he knew that wasn’t possible._

_It didn’t make the climb easier, either._

_He’d had to sling Jim over his back in a fireman’s carry when he’d almost dropped him in his first attempt up the tunnel. As he’d readjusted, Jim had moaned in obvious pain. Spock had to swallow down his urge to stop and check on him; the best he could do for his friend right now was press on and get to sickbay._

_“I’m sorry, Captain. It will be over soon.”_

_Even though his legs burned and his arms ached from the strain, Spock didn’t slow down. He’d successfully completed his climb and paused only long enough to shift Jim back into his arms before taking off towards sickbay. People jumped out of his way as soon as they saw him coming. Briefly, he considered hiding the brimming terror burning in his expression, but he found he didn’t quite care what anyone else was thinking._

_Spock had done everything he could to get Jim there as quickly as possible. Now all he could do, as he barreled into sickbay, was hope that Bones would be able to help._

_Jim had to be alright._

_He just had to…_

* * *

**Beep.**

**Beep.**

**Beep.**

Spock found the sounds of the vital monitor increasingly annoying. He paced back and forth at the foot of the bio bed, waiting impatiently for Doctor McCoy to provide an update on the captain’s status.

“Spock, if you don’t stop wearing a hole in my floor, I’ll give you a hypo that knocks you out from now until Sunday!”

“Days of the week are an illogical method of tracking time in space, Doctor,” Spock murmured quietly, stilling his movements. As he clasped his hands behind his back, he noticed his uniform was rumpled, smeared with drying blood, soot, and grime. It was only fair that he looked as unkempt as he felt.

“Hey, he’s going to be okay, Spock.” Bones lowered his voice, recognizing the Vulcan’s distress. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know. I _do_ know what I’m doing.”

Turning to face Spock, Bones eyed him appraisingly. “With the hypo I gave him, he'll be unconscious for at least another 6 hours. Why don’t you go change, or head back to the bridge, or do whatever it is you do when you’re not in here annoying me?”

Spock hadn’t seemed to have heard him. His dark eyes stared blankly at Jim, who was lying unconscious, but on the mend.

“I’ll stay with him, Spock. I promise.”

Bones could see the battle raging within his friend, his desire to stay almost palpable. The Vulcan didn’t look entirely convinced as he glanced up at the doctor. He searched Bones’ gaze, mouth drawn in a thin line. Finally, he gave a small nod of acceptance.

“Inform me when he wakes up… _please_.”

Bones raised his eyebrow at the added pleasantry, and watched with a sly smile as Spock straightened his shoulders before quickly exiting sickbay.

Spock felt exceedingly tired. He managed to keep his gaze focused, his posture rigid, and his demeanor composed; but inwardly, he possessed all the sturdiness a disintegrating sand castle. And that was being charitable.

With every step, his mind unwittingly ran through the list of injuries McCoy had identified while he’d treated Jim.

_Fractured radius._

_Dislocated left shoulder._

_Lacerations to the back, consistent with falling debris._

_Head injury, mild in severity._

_Two broken ribs, three others bruised._

_Minor internal bleeding…_

And exactly 22 other cuts, scrapes, bruises, or welts. Bones hadn’t found those very significant, but Spock did.

None of these individually were life-threatening, and even all together they posed only a slim likelihood of fatality. Spock had gotten Jim to sickbay in time. He was going to be alright.

Reaching his quarters, Spock sagged lifelessly against the closed door.

Somehow, he knew he wasn’t going to be relaxed or satisfied until he saw Jim awake. _6 hours. Well, 5 hours and 54 minutes to be precise._

There was plenty to be done around the ship to keep him occupied. And he’d make sure it all got done; he was a consummate professional after all. He just needed to find the strength to get up off the floor, first.

* * *

The bridge had been eerily quiet ever since Spock returned from his abrupt departure. Word had spread quickly about what had happened, but no one dared bring it up. One look at the acting captain’s face and everybody knew to steer clear.

It wasn’t as if he was behaving strangely or anything. There was just a hardness to his brown eyes, a harsh emptiness that never wavered or disappeared...

Chekov, Sulu, Scotty, and Uhura all had watched Spock sprint from the bridge with mixtures of confusion and concern. When he hadn’t immediately returned, they went back to work. Between the four of them they had kept the Enterprise on track for the star base, got all the casualties to sickbay, coordinated a plan to repair the explosion damage, and ensured the ship was taken care of. But in the back of their minds, they all were worried about Spock and what had set him off.

It hadn’t taken long for that mystery to be solved though.

Pale faced, and a “bloody hell” whispered under his breath, Scotty informed them all about the events on Deck 11. One of his engineers had communicated it up: the captain was injured and Spock had saved him. There were a few shocked gasps and covered mouths at the revelation.

Not long after, they were surprised to see Spock entering the bridge. Uhura considered asking him how he was doing, or maybe about how the captain was feeling, but thought better of it. If the man noticed everyone staring at him, he didn’t say anything. He was composed and collected. His usual self.

Without so much as a word, Spock descended to the main platform and settled into the captain’s chair. Chekov and Sulu shared a troubled look with Uhura before they all glanced at Scotty. The Scotsman merely shrugged. Spock seemed to be okay, what could they do?

So, they continued on business as usual. Putting out the fires from the emergency one by one. Occasionally, they’d throw Spock worried glances when he wasn’t paying attention. Just to make sure he was alright.

They were nearing the star base and had dropped to warp factor one when the communicator at the captain’s chair whirred to life.

“Sickbay to bridge. Mister Spock, he’s awake.”

_6 hours, 7 minutes, and 18 seconds._

Keeping his voice steady, and his movements measured, Spock leaned over to the communicator.

“I’ll be right down, Doctor.”

He got to his feet and walked to the newly repaired lift with a tranquility he didn’t exactly feel. Spock was aware of every strike of his boot against the bridge floor, the unsteady intake of his breathing, the rapidity of blood rushing in his ears.

Once inside the compartment, he called, “Mr. Sulu, you have the bridge”, this time in a very different manner than before. As the doors shut, he leaned heavily back against the wall.

Maintaining that degree of composure had left him drained. He so very much could have sat on the floor of the lift and either slept or meditated for 12 hours straight.

But Jim was awake.

He was alive. Spock just had to see it for himself.

And he had strength enough for that.

* * *

“Bones! I’m telling you, I’m _fine_.”

“Oh! That’s right! It’s _you_ who’s got the medical degree! Excuse me, Doctor Kirk, I’ll just let you do whatever you damned please!” Bones thundered, his face turning an amusing shade of burgundy.

Jim gingerly swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“I just want to sleep in my own bed, Bones.” He placated, staring up at him pleadingly. “You said so yourself I’m out of the woods. I don’t see why I can’t-”

“I think it’s extremely funny _you_ think this is your choice, Jim! I’m your doctor, for Christ’s sakes, and I’m saying _you_ should _stay_. Right. Where. You. Are!”

With his last few words, Bones jabbed an accusing finger in Jim’s direction. The two proceeded to stare each other down with all the drama of a Mexican standoff, tempers flaring hot and quick.

Jim made the first move. He shifted further off the edge of the bed until his feet were resting on the ground. The movement pulled a bit at his still healing wounds, but wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, so Jim continued until he was standing all the way up.

Fury burned in Doctor McCoy’s expression. Quicker than Jim could keep track of, he’d grabbed a hypo and held it threateningly in front of him.

“Sit your ass back on that bed. _Now._ ”

Before Jim could supply his perfectly crafted retort, the sickbay doors whooshed opened. Spock strolled in with his hands drawn behind his back, stopping in his tracks at the scene he’d just stumbled into. He drew one eyebrow up in surprise.

Pursing his lips, he alternated glancing between Jim, the bed, Bones, and the hypo.

“Spock!” Jim cried, a huge smile spreading across his face.

The Vulcan did his best not to positively melt at the sight. He threw the captain a brief nod before staring down Bones. His expression was hard. It seemed accusatory in nature, asking the doctor with practiced patience as to why Jim was standing up and not lying in a bio bed, resting.

With a roll of his eyes, Bones set down the hypo and held up his hands.

“The Captain here has decided he would like to take his business elsewhere. _Against_ my medical advice, I’ll add.”

“ _I’m fine_. I’ll rest easier in my own quarters, Bones. That’s what you prescribed, isn’t it? Rest?” Jim brought up his right hand and laid it on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sure Spock here could even give you some persuasive statistics about how much more likely I’ll be able to sleep in my bed versus a bed in sickbay.”

Bones sent a dark look towards Spock, silently warning him not to provide any such data. The doctor chewed at his lip for a few seconds before throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Fine! Fine. But I’m checking you out every hour and I’ll walk you there myself.”

“Bones, I don’t need a babysitter!”

“I will not take no for an answer, Ji-”

“Doctor, if I may.”

The bickering men halted abruptly, Spock’s interjection shocking them into silence.

“I can accompany the captain back to his quarters. It is no trouble. And if you are in need of vital signs and tricorder scans, I also humbly offer my services. My room is just across the hall and I am not expected back on the bridge in the immediate future.”

Bones tried to hide his smirk at Spock’s proposal. This was shaping up to be a rather interesting turn of events.

With feigned grumbling, the doctor acquiesced to Spock’s plan. He sent the two of them with some hypos of painkillers, a small tricorder for taking readings, and a stern prescription for rest.

“No funny business. And no trying to get off bedrest early, Jim. Your body’s been through quite the ordeal over the past few hours, so give it time to heal. I know you don’t listen to a damn word I say, but hopefully Spock here will keep you honest.”

“I will endeavor to do my best, Doctor,” the Vulcan replied softly.

Jim let the two of them handle the specifics; arguing and attempting to remain standing was taking most of his brainpower. His head felt like it was packed with cotton, and the injuries that had been previously numbed by medication were slowly making themselves known. He felt a twinge in his shoulder, an ache in his left forearm, and pinpricks of pain all over his torso. As soon as he got to his quarters he was going to sleep like the dead.

Pressure on his neck and the hiss of a hypo snapped him out of his reverie.

“That should help manage your pain and put you to sleep, Jim. Don’t fight it, alright?”

He gave Bones a grateful nod as he felt the numbing effects of the medication course through his system.

“Thanks Bones, I owe ya one.”

The doctor merely grumbled about why he always had to find such impossibly stubborn friends as he watched Spock guide Jim towards the doors.

For someone who purported not to feel, Spock sure did seem to care quite a bit about the captain. The taller man kept a hand hovering behind Jim’s back, ready to reach out and stabilize him should Jim need it. And he’d offered so quickly to help Jim back to his quarters and check on him.

_Interesting. Very Interesting._

Bones chuckled to himself. He was pleased with Jim’s prognosis and he couldn’t wait to share that with the rest of the officers. He was also excited to share how Spock had volunteered to walk Jim back to his quarters.

Wagers had been whispered secretly between Scotty, Bones, Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu for months about when Jim and Spock were finally going to get together. So far, this development proved the most intriguing. And promising.

Maybe this time the two stubborn idiots would finally realize what was right in front of them. What had been there all along. Just maybe.

* * *

“Well, Captain. Should you need anything, I am just across the hall…”

Jim found Spock’s words deflating, not yet ready to take his leave of the man. The walk to his quarters had been fraught with short rests and strong hands helping him keep his balance.

“Don’t make your life harder, Spock. Come on in. Or are you already tired of my company?”

The captain smirked before turning into his quarters, the door left open behind him.

Spock let out a halting breath.

He hadn’t been alone with Jim in his quarters since Jim had had his nightmare. After such a private event, Spock had found it difficult to be comfortable in the room. It was filled with unspoken truths and charged emotions. It felt suffocating.

But this wasn’t for some personal quest or emotional whim. This was to ensure Jim took care of himself; to see he rested, took his pain medication, and his readings remained normal. A medical mission and nothing more.

Spock crossed the threshold, inner turmoil concealed expertly beneath a serene expression. The door hissed shut behind him.

“I’d offer to play you in a game of chess, Spock, but I feel like you’ve got a distinct advantage at the moment,” Jim threw over his injured shoulder. He gingerly lowered himself to the edge of his bed, cognizant of all his aches and pains. As desperately as he wanted to curl up and fall asleep, he knew he couldn’t. Because from the moment he’d exclaimed his friend’s name in sickbay, Spock had seemed… _off._ Jim couldn’t place the source of the strange demeanor. It nibbled at the corner of his mind; hinting at something unknown, prodding him with curiosity.

His best friend was acting strangely and he was going to figure out why.

If he could just keep his eyes open.

Fighting his exhaustion, Jim watched Spock glance uncomfortably around the small room. He seemed nervous, awkward even. Much more stiffly than usual, Spock sat in the chair at Jim’s desk.

“You are quiet today, Mr. Spock.” Jim broke the silence gently, not bothering to conceal his curiosity.

“Forgive me, Captain. I am…merely thinking.”

“Well, I have been told I’m quite a good listener. Should you care to-umm-share?” the injured man offered, the lilt in his voice finishing the sentence like a question.

Spock glanced at him sharply before looking away, fixed on some point behind him.

“You need to rest, Captain. We can speak later, if you wish.”

“Please, Spock. You’re a guest in my quarters. You can call me Jim. Besides, I’m perfectly… _fine_.” Jim said, stifling a yawn behind his hand. “These may look like…yawns, but my brain is just trying to get more…oxygen.”

“I see. Whatever you say, Capt- _Jim_.”

Pleased with the minor victory, Jim gently eased himself backwards onto his bed until he was laying comfortably on his pillow. Spock may have had a point about the rest…

“You don’t have to tell me now, Spock, but when I wake up, let’s have that chat, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Jim.”

“ _Spock._ ”

The Vulcan sighed stoically.

“…alright. If it will get you to adhere to Doctor McCoy’s prescription for rest, I shall share my…thoughts with you when you awaken.”

Jim gave a satisfied nod and relaxed back into his sheets. The hypo Bones had given him and the long walk to his quarters were doing everything they could to pull him into the comforting embrace of unconsciousness. Maybe he should stop fighting the heavy pull of his eyelids…

He’d get to the bottom of Spock’s strangeness after _just_ a few hours of sleep.

“I’ll hold you…to that...”

The captain’s voice drifted off.

Spock listened as Jim’s breathing became heavy and relaxed, his eyes shut and already in the deep throes of sleep. An uneasily feeling began to creep up his spine.

Why had he promised to talk to Jim?

This was not how it was supposed to happen. He could lie, well not _lie,_ but evade the truth. Tell Jim he’d been preoccupied with thinking about his injuries. But that may lead to the revelation of how terrified he’d been, how he hadn’t been able to fathom losing him...

That was much too emotional of an admission. All of a sudden Spock found himself incredibly daunted by the idea of sharing his true feelings.

His eyes skated across the room to rest on Jim’s sleeping form.

He’d wanted this day to go so differently.

He’d wanted it to be…serendipitous in a way.

So much had changed from that moment on the bridge when he’d decided to tell Jim how he felt. The certainty from that moment was nothing but a stranger now. In it’s disappearing wake, it had left uncertainty, nervousness, apprehension, and timidity.

What really had changed between then and now?

What was Spock so afraid of?

The first officer settled back into the chair, his thoughts churning and swirling and darting every which way. He had until Jim woke up to figure out what he was going to do.

Plenty of time to make a plan or come to a decision.

Probably.

* * *

“You’re still here.”

Jim’s surprised voice, scratchy from sleep, roused Spock from his meditation.

“Affirmative, Captain. Jim. I have been monitoring your vital signs and informing Doctor McCoy of your progress.”

At Spock’s words, Jim nodded. Pushing himself up on one arm, he took mental stock of how he was feeling. His shoulder was stiff but manageable; his arm didn’t really hurt all that much; his head was aching, but with the size of the cut near the base of his skull and how long Bones had said he was unconscious, Jim wasn’t surprised; his back felt tight from the healing cuts; and he had the distinct feeling like he’d been tossed around the inside of a tin can…which was fairly accurate.

A hell of a lot better waking up this time than it had felt when he’d first woken in sickbay. Jim even thought he might be able to get back to work in the next day. Bones would be a tough one to convince on that, though.

Covering a yawn behind his hand, Jim fixed Spock with an inquisitive stare.

“How long was I out?”

“Exactly 8 hours, 43 minutes, and 27 seconds.”

“Well, I’m relieved you kept count, Mr. Spock.” Jim couldn’t hide his smirk or the amusement from his voice. “And you stayed this whole time?”

Spock finally met the captain’s eyes.

“Doctor McCoy required hourly updates,” the Vulcan replied, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

_Would it kill you to say you cared, Spock?_

_You’d probably spontaneously combust,_ Jim thought with an eyeroll.

“Aha. I see. So. What were you meditating about?”

Spock didn’t answer, just stared back at the injured man with an unreadable expression.

“Look, I know there’s something going on in that brain of yours. And need I remind you, you _did_ say we’d talk. So here I am, awoken, and ready to listen.”

Jim watched as Spock began to fidget, wringing his hands meticulously in his lap. This was no trivial matter that plagued his first officer. The captain couldn’t fathom what it could be; but with how uncomfortably uncertain Spock looked, it had to be serious.

The Vulcan’s mind was racing a mile a minute. His heart felt as if it were about to beat straight out of his side, even though he knew that wasn’t logically conceivable or anatomically possible. Meditation had helped, to an extent. He’d escaped to the comfort of its solitude once Jim had fallen asleep, and only roused long enough to send the vital scans to Bones, before hiding once more in the familiar security.

Spock went over in his mind every possibility, probability, and eventuality; every outcome of their impending conversation analyzed and dissected. He knew exactly what he was going to say. He just needed to find the courage to say it.

Spock got stiffly to his feet, clasping his hands behind his back. _The probability of a favorable reaction to your admission is 68.3%._ That statistic didn’t raise his spirits. He cast his eyes down, staring imploringly at the floor as the other 31.7% wavered his resolve.

The silence dragged on. Jim felt his concern rise and he inwardly cursed the stubbornness of Vulcans.

“There’s something troubling you, Spock,” the captain pleaded. “I can tell.”

Jim rose cautiously from the bed, crossing the room so that he was standing right in front of Spock. The brooding first officer raised his eyes at the movement.

“You can trust me. Whatever you say will remain within the privacy of this room. You can tell me anything.”

_Anything?_

This was undoubtedly not the time nor the place…but each occasion that he waited, delayed, stalled, or second-guessed, he never got the chance to say what he’d been meaning to.

Taking a steadying breath, Spock forced himself to meet Jim’s gaze.

“I…have struggled for some time with how best to tell you this, Captain. Jim. It started…well, it started quite some time ago but it truly became apparent after you saved my life on the red desert planet. And ever since then, I have felt…” Spock cleared his throat, eyes raised to the ceiling as if he were going to find the right words written above. “I care for you, Jim. Deeply. More deeply than I can even fathom or understand. And…not just as a friend. My feelings have surpassed that point. I value your companionship, but I wish to go further. And I calculate you feel…the _same_.”

It seemed quite suddenly as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Jim was staring at him, some unknown emotion flickering in his gaze. The captain took two small paces back away from Spock, hoping the added space might provide some aiding clarity, or at the very least allow him the room to breathe.

_What did he just say? I think I hit my head harder than I thought. Either that, or I’m still dreaming._

Spock watched Jim’s reaction with hooded eyes. He hoped the distance Jim had inserted between them would not be reminiscent of a new separation within their relationship.

With a deep breath, the Vulcan continued.

“There were moments when you touched me, whether it was to save my life, for reassurance, to stop yourself from falling, or to stop me from falling. And with that contact…it is somewhat difficult to explain. But I could _feel_ what you _felt_. As your hand gripped my arm or my leg, we became connected. Linked. I filled in the rest of the gaps with observation, intuition, probability, and calculated computations. I am quite certain of your feelings, as I am of mine.”

Jim knit his brows in confusion, deciphering just what Spock was trying to tell him. Suddenly, as if flicking a switch, realization dawned.

“Wait. Rewind for a second there. You _knew…_ how I…felt. You…when I touched you, you could tell. You _knew_ , Spock? For-for how long?”

There was an undercurrent of hurt anger sharpening Jim’s voice.

“Since the…holiday party,” Spock replied tentatively.

Jim scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, eyes flashing.

“You knew! Jesus Christ, you knew this entire time and you didn’t say a damn thing!” The captain turned his back on Spock defensively. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I…I did not know how, Jim.”

“That’s…that’s not good enough, Spock.”

Jim, feeling altogether too overwhelmed to be standing so near the Vulcan and desperately chasing an escape, took a step towards the door. A walk would help. It wasn’t as if he’d get anywhere far in his current condition, but at least he could think and process somewhere else. He didn’t think he could do this right now, it was all too much...

A hand grabbing his uninjured arm halted his hasty retreat.

Spock’s grip was soft, tender.

“Jim.”

A pregnant pause.

“Yes, I knew, and yes I didn’t tell you. But I am telling you now, as I am telling you how I feel.” Spock paused, his gentle voice husky with emotion. “The depth of my affection for you terrifies me more than I care to admit. But you have let me see you in times of great happiness and times of profound sorrow. I have felt what you felt and experienced the complexity of your emotions for me. Now please let me share mine with you. Do not run away. Please.”

The captain swallowed thickly. He wanted Spock’s words to be true, but did he dare to hope? Could Spock really feel the same? If he left right now, he’d be safe, but he’d regret it for the rest of his life. If he stayed…

Jim turned slowly to face Spock, a raging sea of emotion brimming in his eyes.

“This…this isn’t some sort of joke or anything? This…is how…you…feel?” His voice sounded so small and broken, cracking with uncertainty.

Spock nodded solemnly. Reassuringly. He let his hand fall from where he had been holding onto Jim. There was one final thing he needed to say.

“I…I love you. It has taken me a long time to realize it, though I believe I have felt this way since our first meeting. What I feel for you is overwhelming. It is indescribable, irrational.” A shuddering exhale. “I adore you, I care for you. With everything that I am. My entirety, my life force, my soul. I love you. I always have and I always will, my _t'hy'la._ ”

Jim’s eyes were wide with surprise. This was…this wasn’t _possible_. And yet here Spock was, standing a foot away, professing his love.

For so long, Jim had written off his feelings as an unrequited dead end. They’d grown and deepened as time passed. Yet he never once believed Spock could ever reciprocate those feelings. Maybe he was just too afraid to hope, because if he did and those dreams were dashed, he didn’t think he could have recovered.

Spock’s words were like a warmth that enveloped him; they coursed within him and filled every fiber of his being with utter ecstasy. He felt like he could fly. Like anything in the world were possible in that moment.

With bated breath, Jim stepped back towards Spock, closing the distance between them.

“Say it again.”

The taller man knit his brows in confusion.

“I…do not understand.”

“What you just told me? Say it again… _please_.”

Understanding sparked in Spock’s mind. Jim’s face was so close to his, he could see the laughter lines around his mouth, the crinkles around his piercing eyes. All brushstrokes within a masterful piece of artistic perfection.

“I love you, _t'hy'la_.”

A single tear traced down Jim’s cheek as Spock leaned down and pressed their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who stuck with me on this journey. Your feedback kept me motivated and smiling throughout the writing process. My appreciation knows no bounds! (:

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked it! Comments/kudos always appreciated, I love to know if people are interested! Thanks for reading(:


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